


this city is for strangers, like the sky is for the stars

by sparklylulz (sparklyulz)



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, five times fic, this fandom has taken over my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyulz/pseuds/sparklylulz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or four times Lizzie notices Darcy’s hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this city is for strangers, like the sky is for the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strikingsparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikingsparks/gifts).



> for Sara. Title comes from Jaymay.

1.

There’s something about letters that she finds romantic. Probably because it means expressing emotion in more than 140 characters or through an Internet connection. She can physically trace the loops in his h’s and see the place where a palm blurred the ink, and for some reason, she suddenly feels achingly close to Darcy.  
  
His penmanship is just as precise as everything else about him, but she can see him sitting at his desk, scribbling quickly, trying to write his feelings for once.  
  
The biggest problem with the letter is that the break room for her floor is directly across from his office, and his door is never closed unless he’s in an important meeting. If she wants coffee, she has to see him, hunched over the desk, pen in hand.  
  
He writes quickly, his fingers gripping the ballpoint lightly and elegantly. She learns too much about his hands from her position over the coffee pot. She watches as he stretches his fingers after signing documents, such a human thing for a man who never seemed particularly human before.  
  
After a few days she realizes he is also left handed, and her lips quirk up when she sees him lift a cup to his lips clumsily with his right hand.  
  
She’s making what is probably her thirteenth cup of coffee that morning when Darcy walks in, and promptly freezes at the sight of her.  
  
“Lizzie,” He says quietly, busying himself with trying to find a mug in one of the cabinets.  
  
“Darcy,” She blushes slightly back.  
  
There was no one in the small room to buffer between them and the awkward silence, and when she hands him a coffee stirrer, their fingers touch briefly. She pointedly ignores any flipping she may feel in her stomach.  
  
“Thank you,” He says stiffly.  
  
They’re standing side-by-side, pouring sugar into their cups and every so often bumping elbows.  
  
Lizzie gives him a small smile, “The great lefty-righty struggle.”  
  
He looks up at her in surprise, and she wonders how he managed to perfectly match his tie with his eyes.  
  
“It has been quite the uphill battle, I must admit,” He quips back, flashing a small smile over the edge of his mug.  
  
“I’ll make sure to send you a sympathy ecard,” She smirks. “Have a good day, Darcy.”

She makes her way to the door and with a great effort _does not look back_ at William Darcy.  
  
“And you, Miss Bennet.” He mutters after she’s already left the room.

 

2.  
  
San Francisco’s hills really _are_ unforgiving after you’ve been climbing them for a few hours, and she makes a mental note that her New Year’s resolution is to get in shape. Of course, it’s not all bad. Gigi talks enough to where there are no empty silences or any time to think about a certain dogeared letter pressed between the pages of her Media Law and Ethics textbook.  
  
She poses for a lot of silly pictures while Gigi babbles on and on about the city and Darcy stands rigidly behind her in silence, with his dumb glasses and ironic scarf. She tries not to look at him from in front of the camera, but she sneaks a peek when she thinks he isn’t looking.  
  
Unfortunately he is looking so she ruins the picture by staring slightly off kilter but totally not “wistfully” as Gigi puts it.  
  
As part of their day out they take one of those dumb boat tours out in the bay and Lizzie doesn’t bother telling them about how boats make her sick and the last time she had stepped foot on one she’d thrown up on Thomas Johnson in eighth grade.  
  
After all, it was only for an hour, surely she could handle a slow trip for that long.  
  
Fifteen minutes later when she’s barricaded herself in the bathroom and trying not to feel embarrassed, she regrets her decision to ever climb on board. Gigi keeps anxiously asking if she’s okay through the door and Lizzie can hear Darcy’s pacing from her position over the toilet.  
  
Eventually they dock back at the harbor and she shakily stands up, knees knocking and her steps uneven as she races to get the hell off this boat. As she moves to descend down the step stool on the dock, she lurches awkwardly, and then there’s a warm hand in hers, steadying her.  
  
Her eyes glance up to find Will Darcy, hand firmly around hers and looking more concerned than she feels he has the right to. Darcy’s fingers are long and completely consume her hand, but when he lets go it isn’t the sea sickness that makes her stomach stir.  
  
“Thank you,” She tells him quietly, listening as Gigi tries to fight her way back to them.  
  
“I’m sorry you’re feeling unwell,” He answers, earnestly.  
  
“I’m feeling a lot better now actually,” She says back, and as always her words hold a lot of unsaid things. _Why are you so nice to me? Why are you so awkward and comfortable at the same time? Why do I wish you hadn’t let go of my hand?_  
  
Instead of voicing any of her questions, she turns to smile at Gigi and if over dinner at some small Thai place, she accidentally brushes Darcy’s hand with her own under the table, well, she can’t be held responsible for it.  
  


 

3.  
  
In the midst of her panic about Lydia and her desire to hit George Wickham a few times with a tire iron, there is only one thing that anchors her back to the moment. Darcy’s hand slides easily along her spine, leaving warmth tingling on her skin.  
  
She hears him offer a car and she remembers that he’s here, his hand is still pressed to her lower back and she doesn’t want him to move it.  
  
As she packs up her camera and rushes to get downstairs, she blanches at the thought of Lydia and George and everything she should have done to protect her little sister instead of being a stubborn bitch about it all. Darcy is standing on the curb as she comes pushing out the revolving doors.  
  
He wordlessly takes her few bags and puts them diligently in the trunk.  
  
She’ll never be able to thank him, to tell him how much she appreciates how nice he is when she doesn’t deserve it.  
  
After she gets home and they find Lydia, the website is suddenly pulled without explanation. Jane thinks maybe Wickham’s conscience got to him, or maybe there wasn’t really a tape at all, but Lizzie thinks she knows who’s their knight in shining plaid.  
  
She holds her sister for a few hours until Lydia falls asleep in Lizzie’s bed, and then she sneaks out of the room to set up her camera.  
  
“My name is Lizzie Bennet and Darcy, if you’re still watching, I wanted to say thank you and that I’m sorry I was so, so wrong about you.”  
  
Of course the video goes viral and she gets about fifteen texts from Charlotte about viewership and _“you better tell me exactly what went down at Pemberley or I will end you”_ in a variety of ways.  
  
She just turns off her phone, it’s been a long day and the one person she actually wants to talk to doesn’t have her number anyway.  
  
When she lays down next to Lydia, she drifts off into an uneasy sleep filled with warm hands and the smell of coffee and maybe even the hint of regret.  
  


 

4.  
  
Bing Lee comes back to town without his 500 teenage prostitutes or his sister, and they hear from Mrs. Lucas that he’s planning on staying in town for a few weeks over the summer. Jane keeps her features calm and collected, but Lizzie still brings her tea and cookies and strokes her hair too much.  
  
When Bing shows up on their doorstep and Jane opens the door, she’s the angriest Lizzie’s ever seen, which largely consists of her letting out a deep sigh and moving out of the way to let him in.  
  
While her mother and sister listen at the door to her father’s den, Lizzie pulls on a coat and makes her way out the door.  
  
What she does not expect is William Darcy to be sitting on the curb outside her house with a bruised jaw and messy hair.  
  
“Lizzie!” He says surprised, standing up from the ground quickly and dusting his pants off.  
  
“Darcy? What happened to your _face_?” She asks, moving towards him, raising a hand to examine his purple jaw with a careful touch.    
  
He winces under her touch, “Bing, and I, uh, had a discussion earlier.”    
  
She snorts, “Come inside, I’ll get you some ice.”  
  
Without much thought, she reaches out for his hand to pull him along in her wake. His fingers are still warm and curve to meet hers. She squeezes gently to let him know that she’s sure of this, she doesn’t want to let go. He squeezes back, but doesn’t say anything as she leads him into the kitchen.  
  
Placing the ice pack to his jaw easily, she holds his gaze evenly.  
  
“You didn’t have to thank me, Lizzie.” He finally says, and she lets out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding.  
  
“You did so much for them, for Jane and Lydia and Bing, I don’t know if I can ever thank you _enough_.” She answers stubbornly.  
  
He fidgets with the ice pack before settling his gaze back upon her, “I did it for _you_ , Lizzie.”  
  
“If you still think of me as an arrogant douchebag, I won’t bother you anymore, but if...” He paused and set the icepack down, “If I’m not crazy and your video meant what I think it did, I do not wish to leave you again.”  
  
His hand presses against her cheek and she smiles up at him.  
  
“I love your hands, even when they’re stained with ink or cold from ice packs.” She nuzzles her face in his palm.  
  
“I love you.” He says simply.  
  
“Then do something about it,” She whispers back before he lowers his head and puts his lips on hers.  
  
 _“I love you, I love you, I love you.”_  He repeats when he pulls back, holding her face with both hands now.  
  
“I love you, too.” She says, without pause or uncertainty.  
  


 

  
+1.  
  
“Ugh this wedding planning is totes boring,” Lydia’s voice came from over their tenth sample piece of bridal cake.  
  
“Well, we all know how much Jane likes things to be planned out,” Lizzie smirks from over her own slice before glancing over to her own boyfriend.  
  
Darcy and cake still seemed like an odd combination to her, after so many months of thinking he probably only fed on the souls of children and protein shakes, (“Don’t be ridiculous, Lizzie, the souls have more than enough protein for me”), but here he sat, diligently putting forkfuls into his mouth.  
  
“Oh, I think you’ve got a little something-” She points at his cheek and as he reaches for his napkin she ambushes him with a finger full of icing.  
  
“Really, Lizzie, must we be so childish?” He asks as she giggles over her plate at him, and when she goes to set her plate down he pushes his fork against her own cheek.  
  
Lifting a finger, he rubs the cake firmly into her face.  
  
“Love you,” He smiles to her.  
  
“Oh my god, get a room before I barf this back up!” Lydia snaps but Lizzie doesn’t really hear her over the feel of Darcy’s sticky fingers on her face.  
  
“Oh, it’s so on William Darcy.” She narrows her eyes.  
  
After they’re thrown out of the shop for starting a cake fight, Jane just tutts loudly and Darcy kisses Lizzie’s icing covered head.


End file.
